


What Is It, Then?

by cheshireArcher



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Julius Caesar - Shakespeare
Genre: Fluff, Other, Reader Insert, Reader Of Unspecified Gender, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7162082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshireArcher/pseuds/cheshireArcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief moment in your non-relationship with Mark Antony. </p><p>Reader insert, no pronouns specified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is It, Then?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Duchess_Of_York](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchess_Of_York/gifts).



> My first attempt at an AntonyxReader! Hope you like it. Requested by Duchess_of_York (Kitkatullus on tumblr)

Your relationship (if it's even that) is not the kind where you stare deeply into each other's eyes and sigh and feel tender emotions. It is also something that is not going to last long, especially with his penchant for trouble. 

Marcus Antonius is the heir to a prominent Roman family- indeed, one of the best. The young man himself, however, seems to not want to be a proper noble. That's perfectly fine, since despite your equally noble upbringing, you don't want to be proper either- especially not with him. 

So that's why the two of you run through Rome like the lowest plebs, getting into trouble and doing what you wish, drinking and making love and wasting your youth. 

Antony is also a brawler. He's made of muscle and uses it, certainly more than he uses his head. That's why he's currently lying on the floor of his father's villa, covered in blood. He's gotten into yet another fight and here you are, cleaning him up. He's also intoxicated, which is what got him into the fight in the first place. 

"You've got to stop doing this," you say, cleaning the blood off his face, but you know he never will- that's why you love him.

No. You don't love him. You don't need to. 

"Ugh..." Antony finally begins to come to, his head flopping toward you. You roll your eyes and pull him to his feet. 

"Good morning, babe..." he mumbles, fixing you with his shit-eating grin. 

"Don't you 'good morning' me," you grumble as you drag him to his room. You have him drop on the bed, fighting off his attempt to pull you down on top of him. His tunic is ripped in front and you finish ripping it so you can reach his chest, muscled and thatched over with wiry hair. You go about cleaning his wounds, gently chiding him for his stupidity. 

"_______, it almost sounds like you care about me!" He says, then leans back to enjoy your expert touch. 

"Not likely," you reply, grinning, and you lean over to kiss him. He tastes gross but you're not sure you care. 

You're not sure you care about him, or all the rumors that surround him. He's got other people he sleeps and carouses with, you're sure. Curio probably isn't just his friend. You've never asked Antony, it doesn't matter. 

You realize the two of you don't just sit and talk much. You don't have that sort of relationship. Mostly it's for fun, but now you begin to wonder if that could be good too. 

You pull Antony's head into your lap and stroke that rich tangle of curls. It won't help his headache but at this point he's probably too far gone anyway.

"Thank you," he mumbles, looking up at you.

"Huh?" You look down at him. 

"Thank you," he repeats. "For... you know." Eloquent, isn't he.

"For taking care of your pathetic ass?" You ask. 

"Yeah. That." 

You find yourself looking into his eyes, which are beautiful even with a bruise under one. "No problem," you say, running your hand over his cheek. He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it. You feel yourself flush with something more than concern. 

Maybe what you thought was wrong.


End file.
